


A Hotline too Far

by glittergrenade



Category: Drake (Musician) RPF, Nicki Minaj (Musician)
Genre: ?? - Freeform, Crack?, F/M, Maybe - Freeform, Mental Illness, Unrequited Love, hotline bling, idek, preforming, so lightskin drake, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 08:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7040521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittergrenade/pseuds/glittergrenade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drake's performance for Nicki of his new song reveals so so much, yet so so little...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hotline too Far

**Author's Note:**

> This took a really really really long time to write. Okay, I know you be like "whaaat?" because it's so short, but honestly, I've had this fic rolling around since I first heard the theories that Hotline Bling was about Nicki Minaj, waaaaayyy back when it was still rising on the charts! And I love Pop Style to death, but this tune is kinda eternal! ...no? ...only to me for tryna write this thing a million years? ok. By the way, fic has been in my notes changing around for so long before I even decided this would have Drake preforming for her. Like honestly, original version of this fic had Kanye West in it and took place at a party that Drake kept calling Nicki like... I'll shut up. It's kinda a plotless mess at the moment, but I am so done with it and wanted to post it so it is COMPLETE. I could make a sequel but probably nah... So yeah, anyways, at long last, here's the thing.

" _Ever since I left the city_ ," there was power to Drake's voice as he hit those last notes. It almost sounded like he was going to continue — but no, that was it. Yearning, desperate, lost… powerful. Like he still wanted something. _Something_ being the subject of the song, presumably.

It was a moment before Nicki clapped, but when she did, she did it loud. "Amazing sound!" she enthused, and she meant it, mostly. Something about the way Drake was gazing at her was making her feel weirdly uncomfortable — even though they were such good friends. "What you say you call it again, Hotline…?"

"Bling," he finished for her, his eyes red around the edges and through the veins. She wondered if he was high, but she couldn't smell anything on him but minty fresh raspberry cologne. "Hotline Bling."

"Well, I love it!" Nicki smiled, more trying to be nice than actually commenting on the song right now. Drake looked like he needed some cheering up. "You're very… passionate, it shows in your performance… Which is a good thing! Especially when you sing, honey, I'd almost say you sing nicer than you rap. Not to downplay you rap!"

"Huh." Drake was gazing at her.

"What, was it about somebody still bothering you?" Nicki got up from her chair, her stomach prickling as she wondered if she could do anything to help. She'd be glad to supply a few drinks and hugs and and Hershey's, but if this woman had done him real bad, Nicki knew it would take something else to recover. Drake was a sensitive man, and though that made him often a target of ridicule, it could be a very good thing — except when it came to heartbreak.

"Nicki, that…" Drake paused briefly, his eyes earnest and shining. "I didn't just preform it for feedback, I… that song was for you."

"Aww," Nicki began at first (how sweet of him to write a song for her!), then she paused as a gulp of air caught abruptly in her throat. Wait. It was _for_ her? As in about her? "Wait, _I_ used to call you on your cell phone?"

 _Late night when you need my love._ "Wait, what? Drake, we ain't never had phone sex."

"I…" he looked confused for a second, then shook his head quickly, a dazed air still glowing in his eyes. "I said _love_ , not lust."

"Is the song about friendship type of love?" Nicki's voice was slow. She didn't want to be hard on him, but… _doing things I taught you, getting nasty for someone else_? How the hell exactly could this be about her? Had she somehow lead him on some type of way? When? How? It wasn't registering.

"…No?" Drake's voice was a question, but he fell to his knees, his eyes glinting like tiny dwarf stars in the low light. "Nicki, I love you."

 _Love._ Her heart seemed to speed in her chest, and she could feel heat rush to her cheeks. "Boy, stop playin'!" she half-giggled though, because really, how _could_ this be about her? It didn't fit. "You like my baby brother, Drake, stop _playin'_ ," she repeated when he didn't come clean. Her face was burning hot now, and if she wasn't wearing makeup, she wondered, if a hint of scarlet would show itself on her brown cheeks. Thank God for foundation. "Stop _shitting_ me," she said now, more seriously. The heat in her face seemed to leave quickly to be replaced by a chill that traveled all down her spine. Love? She did love Drake, but as a friend — a very good friend. He was like family to her. How could this song possibly apply to her in any way at all whatsoever?

"Mr… Drake?" At that moment, a female voice came from behind the door. Nicki bit her lip at the suddenness. In the comfort of a private dressing room, it could be so easy to forget that this wasn't a really a den.

"Yes?" Drake said. His voice was surprisingly steady for his brinking expression, though he didn't take his eyes off Nicki.

The door opened a crack, and a short curvy girl looked in. She had soft brown eyes and dark wavy weave, and a fuchsia lipstick that complimented her sharp light brown cheekbones. Her boobs were lifted in her top to display cleavage, and the round ample booty that filled out her Sean John jeans was almost as big as, well, Nicki's.

"Is it time to go out?" Drake inquired. His voice was flat, and he still didn't look at the girl.

"We're ready on set," the female affirmed.

"What's this again?" Nicki queried slowly. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"We're filming the music video," he replied, blinking, as he seemed to avoid her gaze suddenly beneath his long lashes. "For Hotline Bling."

"Really…?" Nicki's gaze fluttered between the two of them. As if hoping to avoid drama, the actress slid out inconspicuously. Trying to avoid… oh damn, with that realization, it was as if everything within Nicki dropped. This was real. Drake was somehow, she didn't know, schizophrenic — and he thought they'd had something more-than-platonic once and… he was suspicious of what she was doing lately? Why was that! She didn't belong to nobody, let alone — Drake! What was wrong with him? "That bitch is supposed to be me, huh?" She didn't mean to snap, she didn't know the woman, but she was upset. How many times had she called Drake brother? Of course maybe he had thought she meant, like, a brotha, which of course that was meant too, but… She blinked. "Drake, you tripping!" He was crazy. If he wasn't playing her, there had to be something wrong with _him_. Or with her. Or with both of them. She blinked again, hard, then a few more times again. Was she crying? She was mad; offended, sure, that he'd make this ownership type of anthem; but not sad! The problem was with him! She hadn't done anything wrong! She wasn't that crazy bitch in his song, it was nothing like her! Delicately she dabbed at the corners of her eyes with faux nails. She couldn't let her eyelashes loosen. Dammit, she shouldn't've worn this brand.

"Hey, Nicki." Drake took a concerned step forwards. Instinctively she stepped away, which she regretted instantly when Drake halted, quavering. But then he ruined it by going and saying, "I love you, Nicki."

"Don't you go and 'I love you' me!" Nicki shouted, clapping her hands in something far beyond frustration. "I ain't never led you onto me — and you know it!" She wasn't sure if he did know it, really, especially if he was crazy — but no she couldn't deal with that, no, not after Meek, not after anybody or anything — Drake was her friend, who she thought she could always rely on — "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Drake stared at her, his eyes widening. Nicki began to feel guilty — he was in pain, it maybe wasn't his fault, he was just messed up. But suddenly, he turned away. "I'm sorry. I have to go out for the video shoot. We can talk about this later?"

She said nothing, and his shoulders slouched, but he didn't press her an instant; and the moment he went out, she bolted out the opposite door — and ran. She ran out and away from the studio like she would never ever stop. She was mad, yes — but not at Drake, not really. She was mad at herself. She cared so much for Drake and tried to look out for him; she should have realized he'd been so close to the breaking point; she should've caught him before he fell into this unfamiliar sea of illusion. Now she had failed him, and it was too late. Tears at last trickling down her face, Nicki ran on — far from the studio.

**Author's Note:**

> ...yeah.
> 
> :)


End file.
